


won't be long

by rodrikstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dogs, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Marriage Proposal, Steve Rogers Feels, Swearing, like...only kinda though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rodrikstark/pseuds/rodrikstark
Summary: steve forgets to call.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> long story short i’ve been reading a lot of SR fanfiction lately and out of admiration for all the authors out there, here’s me writing a fic for the first time in many many years. this is mostly just me in my feels, since the end of my 2020 was unexpectedly and exceptionally difficult.

Your brow furrows at the intrusion of cold air under the blanket and the way the mattress dips behind you. Then, there’s the solid warmth of his body at your back, and you frown at the arm curling around your waist.

“Steven,” you say.

It’s not a good sign, when you call him that. He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hi.”

“You’re supposed to call me when you’re on the way home.” You huff, petting the soft hair on his forearm despite yourself. “The minute you’re on the Quinjet.”

“I texted,” he says, his arm pulling you tighter against his chest.

You sit up now, rubbing at your eyes as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. _I’m on my way,_ the text reads. 3:04am. Four and a half hours ago. A second text a minute later: _I love you._

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he insists, his big hand tugging at the inside of your elbow. “Please, just—”

You sigh, settling back down on the bed, this time tucking your head under his chin. “I have to get ready for work, Stevie.”

His body relaxes, just a little. His hand sneaks under the hem of your sleep shirt, fingers tracing small circles on your lower back. It tickles a bit, threatening to make you smile. “Five minutes.”

Now you frown. “No. It doesn’t work like that. I should be in the shower already.” You push your palm against his chest in a half-serious attempt to get away, but the fingers at your lower back turn into a solid hand sliding up and holding you there, close to him. _He’s so warm._

You would ask him to join you, if he didn’t already smell like soap and shampoo. If he hadn’t already scrubbed off the film of dirt and grime that clings to him after each mission. You shift back a little, finally looking at his face now. His blond hair is dark and damp, and there’s angry bruising under his left cheekbone.

He smiles softly at you then, the idiot. “Then let’s spend the next five minutes coming up with excuses for why you’re late for work.”

“Shut up,” you tell him gently. You flick at his chest.

“Ow,” he mocks. He just smiles a little bigger, eyes fluttering shut. His shoulders are less tense, knowing you’re not that mad at him. He looks unbearably cute when he says, “I got it. You spilled coffee on yourself. You…your alarm ran out of batteries. Your dog threw up on the sheets and you had to clean it up.”

“We don’t have a dog.”

“We could get one.”

You scoff now, pushing his forearm off your body, and squirming away when he tries to trap you with his thick leg. “Maybe I should just tell the truth,” you say with a little more bitterness in your voice than you would like, “that my boyfriend is Captain _fucking_ America—”

He gives up any attempt to keep you in bed then, rolling onto his back and resting his hands on his stomach while you continue. “And I lose my goddamn mind because I’m just a _civilian_.” You pad to the bathroom, reaching for your facial cleanser. You definitely don’t have enough time to shower. “Who doesn’t have the right to know where the _fuck_ he is half the time.” You blink away a tear, examining your hair in the mirror.

“The mission was bad,” he says, just barely audible over the sound of running water. “Successful, but bad. People got hurt.” He looks up at the ceiling.

You turn to him, marvelling just a little bit at how larger-than-life _Steven Grant “Captain America” Rogers_ is really in your bed, looking smaller under the thick covers, wearing flannel pajamas instead of a stealth suit. You turn the faucet off, and it’s suddenly so quiet. “Who?”

“Four agents. Three civilians.” He winces.

“Is that why you didn’t call me?”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he mutters, voice breaking only a little. “Just wanted to come home.”

“If you had called me, we could have talked about it. But I really have to get to work right now.” You try to swallow down the thick feeling in your mouth, looking at your toes. “I wish I could stay.”

He sits up, throwing off the covers. He watches you wipe your face with a towel, calculating if he has enough time to brew you some instant coffee before you leave, in a futile gesture of apology. “I know. I’m glad I got back in time to see you, at least.”

“I’m glad too.” You notice the way his hair is sticking up at the back again and ache to smooth it down, and soothe all his hurt. He’s looking at his hands, where there’s even more bruising on his knuckles. “Steve. Sometimes…this is really hard.”

He nods slowly, lost somewhere else. He lets the statement hang still in the air, chewing on all the things “this” refers to.

You sigh with fake drama. “But maybe we should get a dog.”

He looks up and smiles. “Yeah?” He makes his way toward you, plucking up the pile of work clothes you had laid out the night before, placing them into your hands, and kissing you.

You scrunch your nose. “Yeah. But, y’know, when you’re home, you have to help me take care of it—”

“Yes.” He holds your face in his hands, dotting kisses on your cheeks and forehead. “Yes, yes, yes. When I’m home.”


	2. part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and steve struggle as first time dog-parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow thank you so much, this is such an honor. first, i’d like to shout out the person who requested an angsty sequel to what was originally supposed to be a oneshot, um [reads note card] Absolutely No-one.

When you get back from a long day at work, you come home to a silent apartment. 

Nothing. No chirping barks, no excited little clicks of Apollo’s nails on your hardwood floors, the sounds you associate with coming home. For a second, you panic, dropping your bag to the floor and whipping around to look at your front door to make sure you hadn’t somehow missed a busted lock or structurally compromised door frame, the things Steve told you to look out for before entering the apartment.

Scanning rapidly, your eyes land on the key rack next to your door. You notice Apollo’s leash missing from its usual hook. In its place, a sticky note on the wall: _Out on a walk :) - S_

Twenty minutes later, as Steve turns the corner, Apollo panting but trotting happily ahead of him, he glances up to see you sitting on the steps outside your apartment. With your arms crossed and tucked into your stomach, you stare down at the sidewalk. He picks up Apollo and jogs the rest of the way. “I can explain—”

You look at him. “Steve, come _on_.” 

“The mission ended early,” he says quickly. He places Apollo down on the step in front of you, leaning down and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead in apology. “I wanted to have all the chores done before you got home, as a surprise.”

Steve settles down on the step, your hips touching. Apollo jumps up, his paws landing on your knees, and you pull him into your lap, grumpily avoiding Steve’s pleading looks. “I was hoping to be back in time. But you’re home early.”

“I caught an early train.”

Steve holds up a white paper pag, which you can tell has a couple of your favorite doughnuts in it. “I got you—” 

“Steve.” You tense up, exasperated by your boyfriend once again neglecting to tell you he was coming home, and it causes Apollo to leave your lap and crawl into Steve’s. “I don’t need surprises. I got home and Apollo wasn’t there. I thought someone broke in, stole him, or…” You feel like you sound stupid, but you know your worries are legitimate.

“Well, how could anybody resist this face?” he asks, a little hesitant, because he knows making a joke right now could backfire. He holds up Apollo, his black paws hanging in the air, his ear flopping a little when he tilts his head at you.

You attempt to stand up, but Steve grabs your wrist. You want to groan, and go back inside to finally take off your work shoes. Instead, you give in to his insistent little tugs, shifting your arm so you’re now holding hands. Sitting down again, you take the doughnuts from him. You open the bag in your lap, ripping off a piece of the dessert and offering it to Steve first. He shakes his head, so you pop it in your mouth. 

“I have another surprise for you,” he says softly. You rest your temple on his big shoulder, chewing on the dense treat and squeezing his hand affectionately. As you lick your lips, tasting the sugary glaze, you do feel a _little_ less annoyed with him.

He scoops Apollo off his lap, making sure the end of the leash stays around his wrist. Quickly and nervously, he digs that hand into his front pocket, pulling out a small black box. He uses his knee to pry it open. He presents it to you. 

You’re still kind of hangry at him, putting most of your attention on eating the food he brought you, so it takes you a second to process what you’re actually seeing. The pale diamond sparkles in the late afternoon sun.

You sit up straight. “Steve,” you whisper. You turn your head, looking up and down his stoic profile. 

He studies the ring. “I’m not proposing, I’m just…proposing the idea.” The last three words are forcibly light. Then he exhales, short and sharp. “I know you think it’s too fast.”

“No,” you say, more of a knee-jerk reaction than an actual response. Then, you sigh heavily. 

“Just think about it.” He glances at you, a bittersweet expression flickering across his face. “No pressure.” 

You shake your head a little, looking at him incredulously. Gently, you ask, “No pressure? Steve, you already bought the ring.”

Apollo walks in a circle, then settles down on the step, his chin resting on Steve’s shoe. He pets Apollo’s head, refusing to look at you. He clicks the box closed and puts it back in his pocket. “I guess I just know what I want.”

You inhale, rising to stand. He lets you this time, his hand dropping to his knee. You cross your arms, the paper bag in your fist crinkling. Chewing at the inside of your lip, you watch cars drive by and hear faint honks in the distance. The sidewalks are almost empty. 

You admit, “When I come home and you’re not there, sometimes, I worry…” 

He knows how you would finish that thought. _That maybe that’s the day. From that day forward, I’ll always come home to no one but Apollo._

Apollo startles as Steve moves to stand in front of you, descending a couple of steps so your eyes are level. His brow furrows. “The mission wasn’t high-risk. Just some reconnaissance.” You avoid his eyes, marveling at the way the golden sunlight makes his blond hair glow. “You know I can’t give you the details of a mission, but if there’s ever one you actually need to worry about, I’m gonna let you know.” 

His blue eyes shine, something determined and urging behind them. “I need you to trust that I’m one of the most well-equipped people on the planet to handle situations like these.”

You blink at him sadly. “That doesn’t mean that I’m the most well-equipped person to handle _this_ situation.” You press your hand to your heart, then his. Your eyes start to sting.

“My job isn’t going away any time soon,” he murmurs. He ducks his head. Your dog whines a little, still confused by how the three of you haven’t gone inside yet. “This is what you signed up for,” Steve mutters.

“I just want you to tell me when you’re coming home,” you explain.

“I’ve been doing that.” 

It’s true, he has, at least until today. But lately he’s been leaving on more missions, longer ones. He texts and calls you when he can, mostly from his cell but sometimes from an international payphone, at odd hours of the day. You feel further away from him than ever. 

“I left a note,” he reminds you, glancing up at the door to your place. “I just wanted to do something to make you happy.”

“I’m happy,” you say, but your voice goes high and soft, taking away most of the conviction you wanted behind that statement. “I just… maybe we—’’ You hug yourself tighter, because you have no idea what you are or aren’t suggesting. “I don’t know, Stevie.”

He sways back a little, and you put out a hand on his shoulder to steady him. At the same time, he reaches out to squeeze your hip, supporting you.

“Maybe I should stay somewhere else tonight. Or, for however long you need,” he says quietly. It’s not a suggestion, but an offer.

With a dull _crunch_ , you drop the bag on the steps, between your feet so you can nudge Apollo away if he tries to sniff at it. You use both hands to frame Steve’s face, and make sure he looks you in the eyes when you say, “That’s the last thing I want.”

“What _do_ you want?” he asks.

“Time. To think.”

“You don’t need space?” It’s a question, and a scared one.

“No, Steve.” You grab the bag with one hand, then Steve’s wrist and Apollo’s leash with the other. “You’re home.” You’re already taking a careful step back up the stairs, encouraging them both to follow you. Steve watches you, his gaze steady as he matches each of your steps backwards with one forward. 

“No,” you repeat. “I want you here with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i never mentioned it in part 1 but in case you’re curious, this fic title comes from kerrigan-lowdermilk’s “run away with me” :)

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr! @rodrikstark


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